


On the grounds of Brooklyn

by WritingRevolutionary



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Spot Conlon, Brooklyn, Canon Era, Established Relationship, Gay Racetrack Higgins, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Miscommunication, New York, Oblivious Racetrack Higgins, POV Racetrack Higgins, Racetrack Higgins has Self-Esteem Issues, Soft Spot Conlon, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:55:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26215996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingRevolutionary/pseuds/WritingRevolutionary
Summary: Race had taken to his heels and run as fast as he could away from Spot, and Brooklyn, all because Spot had told him that he loved him. Which scared Race to death, because he realised how desperately he wanted Spot's words to be true. (Spoiler Alert: they are, Race just doesn't know it yet)
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65





	On the grounds of Brooklyn

Race walked over the bridge to Brooklyn like he did everyday, papes in hand, making his way to Sheepshead. But he walked a little slower than usual. Not so slow that it was really noticeable to the average passer-by, but it was there. Usually he couldn't wait to arrive at the racetrack so he could sell his papes in record time, bet on a race or two and, just before returning to Manhattan, smoke a cigar and play cards with Spot Conlon.

It had been like that for years. Spot allowed Race to sell at Sheepshead, and so he came and checked in on Race from time to time. Probably to make sure he wasn't drifting away from Sheepshead and into Brooklyn newsie territory. That was what Race had always thought anyway. And besides, he and Spot had a good time together. He wasn't as scary or as tough as he seemed, once you got to know him, although there was no doubt in Race's mind that Spot would probably knock him out cold if he ever divulged that particular piece of information. But Spot was good to have a laugh with. He told dirty jokes, shared stories of the stupid things his newsies sometimes got up to, and laughed in kind at Race's jokes and stories. But there was real heart there too, in the way Spot looked out for the younger newsies, and the way he'd throw himself into a fight if something snide was said about someone else twice as fast as he would if something was said against himself. Race supposed that that was how he came to be King of Brooklyn.

But for all his virtues, Spot was nevertheless the reason Race was walking more slowly than usual. Race was intent on avoiding him, and indeed any of the Brooklyn boys, in case Spot had given orders to have them soak him on sight. Race was convinced that this was a very real possibility because the day before Race had taken to his heels and run as fast as he could away from Spot, and Brooklyn, towards the safety of Manhattan. All because Spot had told him that he loved him. Which scared Race to death. Because for years he had told himself that Spot Conlon didn't do emotion, which is why Race had let himself be kissed by him for the first time the year before. If Race knew that Spot felt no emotions, then he could curb his own. He could tell himself that this wasn't bad, or wrong, because without feelings, whatever this was with Spot was just, stress relief, or reimbursement for giving Race Sheepshead as a selling spot. This was business, not pleasure. And Race had it under control. It didn't matter to him if when they kissed or fucked that's all Spot thought it was. Race was so far gone he'd take what he could get. Only he hadn't known how far gone he really was until the night before, when he realised how desperately he wanted Spot's words to be true. 

When he finally reached Sheepshead he still managed to sell all his papes, but without his usual joviality it took him nearly twice as long. He didn't make any bets, and he was intending to walk back to Manhattan when he saw a familiar face near the stables where Spot and he would usually hide out.

'"Thought I'd come and try my luck". Spot said jokingly.

Race merely snorted in response. Spot raised his eyebrows and dragged Race, protesting, into the secluded part of the barn where they had all their rendezvous. Once they were out of sight of prying eyes Spot let him go and raised his hands in surrender.

"I just wanted to see if you was ok". Spot continued, sincerely this time. "Yous gave me a real fright last night. Jus' tell me what I did wrong an' I'll try an' fix it, but if yous never wanna see me again that's fine, I'll go. I jus' want yous happy".

"You means that?"

"Jesus, Racer, we've been together a year, I just told you I love you, course I mean that".

"Together?"

"Well, yeah", Spot said sheepishly, looking at the ground. "Unless, uh, unless you got someone else...?"

"No!" Race exclaimed suddenly, making Spot jump out of his skin. "No", he said again, softer this time, "I don't got anyone else. Only, I didn't know that's how you sees us".

"Like yous mine an' I'm yours?"

"I guess so".

"What, you think I go round fuckin' half o' New York? I ain't like that Racer. Truly. Everythin' I done with you been because I love you. There ain't never been anyone but you".

"You mean it?"

"Yes".

"And you meant the other thing you said? The um, the love thing?"

"Sure I did. But look, Racer, if you don't feel the same that's ok..."

"I do". Race interrupted again. "I do feel the same".

"Then why'd you run?"

"I was scared you didn't really mean it. Before you said it, I could cope, thinkin' it didn't mean nothin', but after? I dunno Spotty, I just saw red. 'm sorry". Race began to feel tears pricking his eyes.

"Hey, shh, you don't gotta be sorry".

Spot moved towards Race and wrapped his arms around him, tangling his fingers in Race's hair as Race leant his head against Spot's shoulder.

"If yous didn't realise this past year how happy yous make me an' how much I care about you then that's on me, not you. I'm sorry Racer".

"'s ok".

"You really thought we was just foolin' around?"

"Guess I figured the great Spot Conlon only came to me if he was hard up for a dame. Bit of stress relief y'know?" Race laughed, hollowly. 

"I don't want no dame. And you ain't stress relief". Spot replied firmly. Then he paused, and his face fell. He pulled away just enough to look at Race, but never letting him go. 'You thought I was using you. This whole time'. It was a statement, rather than a question. "Damn, I fucked up".

"You couldn't know what I was thinkin'. I never said. 'sides, guess I kinda wanted to be used", Race admitted, "thought that was the best I was ever gonna get. Someone like me, y'know? I could never make it work with a dame the way you could Spot. There just ain't nothin' there. So I figured I'd take what was on offer. Didn't know what a mess it would get me into until what yous said last night".

Spot pulled him in tighter. "I'm so so sorry Racer. I don't want anyone but you. I'd never throw you away for some dame. This is it for me, y'know. If you want it". 

"I know that now. And I do want it".

"You sure? I don't want you to settle for me 'cause you think you ain't good enough for anyone else. Yous more than enough. Yous so perfect. You could have anyone you want Racer an' they'd be lucky to have you. You deserve the best".

"Thanks". Race chuckled at the compliments. "Can we start over?"

"Of course".

"Good", Race replied smugly. He looked Spot in the eye. "I love you".

"I love you too".

"You swear?"

Spot placed a hand over his heart ostentatiously, "On the grounds of Brooklyn," he grinned.

Race laughed at that. Then Spot leaned up, wiped a tear from Race's cheek, and kissed him as though his life depended on it, beginning to smile even more as he felt Race kiss back. They stayed there for the longest time, their kisses becoming deeper, and more heated, until eventually Spot laid Race down and made sure that this time Race knew, unequivocally, that Spot was making love to him, on the grounds of Brooklyn.


End file.
